Case Number 16802: Small Claims Court

FOR ALL MANKIND: CRITERION COLLECTION (BLU-RAY)

The Charge

"We chose to go to the moon in this decade and do other things, not
because they are easy but because they are hard." -- John F. Kennedy

The Case

Al Reinert's For All Mankind is a thrilling and unique cinematic
experience. Yes, that is the best way to describe it, as a, "cinematic
experience." It is not quite a documentary, not quite a fictional film, not
quite like what most of what we are used to seeing on a movie screen. Reinert
combines footage from the multiple Apollo missions to the moon that took place
between 1969 and 1972, seamlessly blending the words and actions of various
crews into a seamless and achingly poetic film. He takes bits and pieces from
many different NASA sources but creates a tapestry that makes us feel as if we
are watching a single mission. That is one of the gifts this film has to offer
us, the ability to look beyond the ordinary facts and reality to find that epic,
Herzogian "ecstatic truth" that transcends reality. The voices of over
a dozen astronauts join forces to create a single coherent narrative; a tale of
wonder and awe that draws us in and makes us feel as if we are part of this
experience.

This is a film that makes my heart soar. I am in love with the manner in
which it flows between simple, small-scale humanity and epic scope. In one
moment, we see an astronaut with a walkman cheerfully listening to a Merle
Haggard song specially recorded for his journey to outer space. In another
moment, we see another astronaut staring in astonishment at sights that he had
previously only seen as special effects in movies. "Just look at
this," he marvels. "All of this 2001-looking stuff." He
makes a request that mission control play a bit of Strauss. In the world of
space travel, there are so many moments of technical details and laborious
training occasionally punctuated by those oh-so-precious moments of joyous
fascination. This is a film that dispenses with the former while artfully
stringing together moment after moment of the latter.

There is rarely a moment that is not compelling on some level. I was struck
by the scenes in the control room in particular. It is the same sort of mission
control room that we have seen in so many thrillers, documentaries, dramas, and
sci-fi films. It is filled with the same sorts of individuals that we are used
to seeing in such control rooms: clean-cut men who seem to be all business most
of the time. Ah, but here we see a side of them that is rarely ever shown. As
striking images from space are beamed back to Earth for the very first time, we
see a childlike joy enter the eyes of these individuals. This is what we have
been working toward for such a long time. Here it is at long last, they seem
to be thinking.

Reinert does not take the expected approach of focusing on specific
individuals, telling their stories and giving them carefully-organized dramatic
arcs. Names are almost never mentioned in the film, so it is often difficult to
tell just who is speaking. That's the point, really. It doesn't matter. What
Reinert wants us to witness is not the experience of particular men, but the
experience of humanity as a whole. Here are human beings traveling to a new
world for the very first time. This is what they feel. This is what they see.
Though they have a great deal of special training and scientific knowledge, such
things are more or less forgotten about when they first witness the majesty of
space. They have the same reaction that most of us would have: "Wow."
They worry about going to the bathroom in low gravity, they think about how cool
the moon looks when given a backdrop of classical music, they marvel at the size
of rocks in space, and they do all they can to freeze these precious moments in
time in their minds. As one astronaut points out, they aren't just witnessing
these things for themselves, but rather...well, for all mankind.

Thus far, Criterion has been somewhat selective about which new releases
actually get hi-def companion releases, so I'm just a little puzzled by their
decision to give For All Mankind a Blu-ray release. The film relies very
heavily on grainy, beat-up stock footage, and I honestly doubt that most of this
looks drastically better than it would on DVD. To be sure, there are a few shots
of space that really benefit from being seen in hi-def, but it's an expectedly
scattershot visual experience that is only as good as the historical footage
available. Still, I suppose hi-def is the way to go if you have to pick one or
the other. The 2.0 audio is also often subjective to the quality of the audio
available. Lots of muffled dialogue, bleeps, and beeps are all over the place,
though the ethereal bits of original score that appear here and there come
through nice and clear. The narration is often accompanied by a bit of hiss, but
it isn't too bad.

The supplements here are a mixture of older and newer materials. The audio
commentary by Reinert and astronaut Eugene Cernen was included on a 1999 DVD
release. Other older features include a subtitle track that identifies the
astronauts as they are speaking in the film, a gallery of paintings by astronaut
and artist Al Bean, launch footage from various Apollo flights, and audio clips
from NASA history. However, there are also some new features. The best of these
is a 32-minute making-of documentary featuring Reinert and other individuals
involved in the making of the film. In addition to this, you get a 20-minute
selection of interviews with various astronauts. Cool stuff, and well worth a
look.

Whether you classify For All Mankind as a documentary, a work of
fiction, or something else entirely, there is no denying that it is a truly
great film. If you haven't seen this, you must. This disc is definitely worth an
upgrade from previous DVD editions. Recommended without reservation.